


Can we just be happy?

by luveyes



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, I mean they kind of do, M/M, POV First Person, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Sad boi hours, canon typical cursing, why can't these boys just talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-12 04:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20986601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luveyes/pseuds/luveyes
Summary: What if Penny had never run down to the beach? What if Watford and the magic world just gave them a fucking break?I tried my best to emulate Rowell's writing style as if is supposed to be a direct continuation. I'm suprisingly really proud of it.





	Can we just be happy?

**Author's Note:**

> I just marathon-ed both books and aye aye aye they are SOOOO good. I am just absolutely in LOVE with Rowell's writing style, especially her dialogue. And honestly it is utter bullshit that Simon and Baz didn't get their big relationship conversation that literally the Entire book was leading up to. Big Mad. but man if i'm not a slut for slow burn.  
This happens immediately as an alternate ending for the prologue, so the first few lines are straight from the book to jog your memory of the scene.  
Also I'm not British so I tried for that slang and I think I did okay, but I only had the two books to compare it to so whoops, we'll see how that goes i guess.

BAZ

I raise my voice: “Why can’t you see I wouldn’t be happy anywhere without you?”

He sits back, like I’ve slapped him.

“Simon…” I whisper.

I wait for him to _get _it. To finally give into it.

Or maybe to say I’ve passed the test.

Instead he shakes his head. “Baz…” His voice is barely there. I’m still turned towards him, perching on the edge of movement. I’m the one that set off, the one that raised my voice. I’m the one with the energy now, nearly vibrating with it. Simon just sits there, leaning back, leaning away, still, quiet, frankly catatonic. A wave laps our feet. Then another. His face is blank, he’s not talking. Suddenly, I forget that I was scared I scared him away. I forget that I had been tiptoeing around him, pretending not to notice him drawing distance, forget that I had resigned myself to taking whatever he would give me. Maybe I don’t forget but I just don’t fucking care.

“Oh SOD OFF. You think you can just keep doing this? Not answering me? You’ve barely looked at me in _months_. What did I do, Simon? To make you hate me so much, again? Did you ever really stop? I bet you wank to the idea of me joining the vampires. About being one of them, finally get to prove I was evil all along? Huh?” He still just sat there but his pupils are huge, his eyes blurry. “**Answer me.” **It isn’t a spell but I say it like it could have been.

“I…”

“Spit it out, Snow.” He just clamped his mouth shut and turned away from me “**Tell me more, Tell me more.” **Simon’s mouth gapes. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it. I would never- I couldn’t… but I don’t reverse it.

“I can’t believe you. I just want you to be happy, and you seemed happy with Lamb and the vampires you did. You’ve hated America, and I can just tell how miserable you are with me. I’m nothing anymore, just a Normal. A tosser, a loser. You don’t look at me either! All I ever do is fuck everything up, I even fucked up breaking up with you. I’ve wanted to before we even came to America, but I just wanted a few more nights. A few more kisses, a few more touches. I thought I could just pretend you weren’t staying with me because you promised, because of a truce, because we’ve been together so long you couldn’t imagine what it would be like without me. But I’ll tell you what it would be like: Better.”

He was practically heaving. “I hate you for compelling me. I hate that I can’t hate you, that no matter what I’ll be helplessly in love with you. I can’t stand it when you look at me, when you kiss me like there’s something there. You asked me once if I still thought you were alive, and I do, more than me. There’s so much in you, magic, and determination, and and and, just…_everything.” _He hiccupped. “There’s nothing in me anymore. I’m the _humdrum.”_ He sneers. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sneer, he looked like me. That happens, if you spend too much time with someone, you start looking like them.

A wave laps at our feet again. He falls back against the sand so and covers his eyes. “I want to stay in America and just drift away. Swim off into the ocean, wander off into the woods like the Faeries, fly without a view of the horizon. To just go, air whipping past me. Anything to tear through the absolute dry, nothingness.”

I don’t even think it is the spell anymore. I think Simon is finally talking, just… talking.

I want to comfort him.

I don’t think I could.

(I don’t think I know how.)

“When you asked me what the humdrum wanted, what holes wanted, you said they want to grow. But all I want is to be filled, I’m tired of being empty. I’ve been hungry my whole life, but there was always magic. Now… there’s nothing.”

“You’re not the humdrum.” Simon snorted.

“That’s not what you said before.” Simon ran his fingers through his hair. “And you were right, I was-am- the Humdrum. Just like everything you’ve said. How many times have you told me how stupid I was, how dense, how many times did you mock me ‘_use your words, Snow.’ _You tried to kill me three times and those are just the ones I know about. ‘_literally nothing you say is helpful’, ‘foolhardy oaf’ ‘muleheaded’ ‘a disgrace to magic’ _well I guess that one is true. They’re all true. I’m tired of being so much less than the people around me. You and Penny… you’re the best mages in a long long time, and Ebb’s gone, I couldn’t save her, so you might just be the best now.” I’m not usually the speechless one, but I can’t find any words. (If it was a different circumstance I would I curled my lip about being less than the goatherd.) We sit there, on the beach. Penny, Agatha, Sheppard, and Ginger back in the house. The waves crash and recede and crash again. I can feel my cheekbones crisping in the sun.

“I’m sorry for compelling you.” I say softly.

“No, you’re not.” He still isn’t looking at me.

“No,” I say after a beat. “I’m not.”

“I’m sorry for saying all those things, calling you all those things. Your clever, Simon, so clever. A mad lad with any blade. You’re courageous, and reckless, and-”

He stands up. For what feels like the first time in months he focuses on me, true eye contact. His gaze has always been intense, but with the blue of the ocean all around him… Crowley he is so inconveniently beautiful.

“I’m nothing anymore.” He says.

And took off over the ocean.

The bloody theatrics never end.

SIMON

The wind fills me, it whips through my pores and tangles my hair. Everything smells of the ocean, salty and slightly putrid. I hear Baz shouting my name. The pacific is endless deep blue and I fly right towards the sun.

PENELOPE

Something is obviously wrong with Baz when he trudges up to the apartment, shoes and socks in hand and the nastiest scowl on his face. He’s covered in sand and hands are sparking, the tips of his hair are singed.

“Isn’t he flammable?”

“Everyone is flammable, technically.” I wonder if Sheppard rolls his eyes, but I don’t take my eyes of Baz. He slams the gate so hard that a screw pops off the hinge.

“Shouldn’t we go check on him?” I squint at the sun, just making out a reddish blot against it.

“They’ve finally had their row, I suppose.” I just sigh. Sheppard settles back next to me.

“Okay.”

We miss our flight, Simon hasn’t come back yet.

BAZ

Snow isn’t back for lunch.

Or dinner.

Or the next lunch.

Or the next dinner.

I am practically strapping a magickal jet-pack to myself, ready to cast the largest finding spell in magickal history, when there’s a thud on the roof.

I’m up in a second. My veins are thrumming with him, it has to be him. Simon, Simon, cinnamon and butter, and bacon, and smoke, and _home._ I’m dimly aware of Bunce poking her head out from Agatha’s bedroom. I find myself on the roof without remembering how I got there. Simon. Simon is crumpled like a paper ball in a bin, he’s all bent up. But he’s here, he came back.

He’s _here._

“Simon.” He almost looks dead. I run over and sink to my knees, unfolding him with trembling hands. I smooth out the creases in his wings and tuck back his curls. I cradle his head in my hands. His body is shaking. “Simon, why can’ you see I’ll only be happy if I’m with you?” I’m not sure if I say that out loud. I’m holding him and murmuring to him. “Simon, why can’t we be happy? Why is it so hard to believe that I want to be with you? Simon, Simon Snow.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he opens his eyes. That same intensity is there, the moon reflecting in him this time. He’s burning up, his skin is clammy. How far had he gone? Had he eaten since he left? Had he slept? I curse myself for leaving my wand beside my bed (couch). I could **fit as an ox **him, or **get well soon.** Instead he grabs me by the neck and kisses me.

SIMON

He’s here because of course he’s here. Of course, he had missed his flight, or rather elected not to go to his flight. Baz was never unintentionally not punctual.

He was supposed to be gone.

I came back to Agatha because I didn’t know where else to go, but I just want to be here. To be with him. I need it. I want to know him; I want him to see me. I want him to _see _me, to see _me_. Not who I used to be, not the echo of the world he knows. I want him to look at me and see a bloke that he’s in love with. Just like I’m so helplessly in love with him.

BAZ

He’s kissing me, and I’m kissing back.

It feels like that first night, in the fire, in the woods.

His mouth his hot. His hands are hot.

It’s an all consuming fire. It’s a rebirth. It’s a start, its _something. _

It’s a he. That he is Simon Snow.

And he’s _mine. _

(and I’m his).

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm thinking about continuing this maybe? Simon finding something to be passionate about, being less angry and less sad, and both of them coming into their own self worth. Thoughts?  
Thanks again!  
Come find me on instagram @maeberry_arts


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